


how our bodies, born to heal, become so prone to die

by ashintuku



Series: I am dissonance waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 10:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “I’m not used to anyone sticking around,” she said, looking at him with questions. And he smiled, stepping closer, and for once the stars did not feel like a restriction. They felt like a hug.“Welcome home.”





	how our bodies, born to heal, become so prone to die

Some nights, when it was quiet and nightmares kept him awake, Cassian traced the freckling constellations that ran along his palms, down his inner wrists, and ended in a fade of stars at the crease of his elbow. 

He remembered when they were bright, vivid marks, warm and bright like hugs and his mother’s song. He remembered very little about his mother, but her songs were in the forefront of all memory, and they were bright and warm and for the longest time he carried them in his skin. 

His father curved in a crescent moon on the back of his neck, a steady, guiding hand that always taught him to fight for what he believed in. Never back down from what he perceived as wrong; never fear to do what had to be done. His father gave him the courage to fight, however he could, no matter how young he was. 

His mother soothed the nightmares away afterwards. 

And Cassian Andor felt something within himself wither and die when burning, searing pain crackled along his skin and his parents died.

~+~

Chirrut knew the moment he met the young man Baze that they were going to be lifelong friends and partners. 

He had never seen his soulstars – once, when he lived with them, his mothers had told him of all the stars and galaxies that covered his skin. And they always remarked on the shower of shooting stars over his pale eyes, freckling him and making the older women of the village tweet and call him ‘starry-eyed’ with affection. 

He knew that the one who covered his eyes would be the best, most important one to him out of all the constellations and curving suns that patterned him. 

They would be his eyes. 

(When he finally met Baze – met him, and grew older with him, and felt his faith crescendo and die in a cascade of fading Light – he knew that Baze would be his eyes. And he would be his heart.)

~+~

Baze had never known how he felt about the soulstars that dotted his skin. 

His familial ones were faded the moment he was born, his mother’s dying breath the first sound in his life, and his father long-since passed. He grew up orphaned and fostered, with no one making any of the few markings on his skin react. 

People would comment on his eyes, and the shooting stars so prominently displayed; and they were important to him, because he felt in his heart that they were important. They would be some significant part of his life, and he looked forward to finally meeting them, generally speaking. 

But the twin suns on the backs of his hands, and the trickling supernovas that dripped down his sternum, and the thin sliver of moon on his hip, stood out to him, too. Especially as they only formed later on in his life, when he thought he had met all of who would be of any significance to him the moment he met Chirrut. 

He wondered at these young people his skin decided to tell him he would love. Wondered at them, and whether or not it was truly destiny or if it was just more foolishness that needed to be driven out of his mind before it hurt him.

~+~

K-2SO had no soulstars, because in truth he had no soul. 

It did not bother him. 

(It, at times, did bother him.) 

~+~

Jyn remembered the day she felt her mother’s twin suns explode along the column of her throat, electrifying her nerve-endings as she hunched in the grasses. It near-blinded her as she fled, running to a cave with tunnels hidden by stone. She gasped and cried and clung onto her little lamp, feeling her heart thumping in her chest, as the sight of red blooming out of her mother burned into her eyes just the same as her life fragmented away on the inches of her daughter’s skin. 

(Her father’s twinkling North star did not fade. It did not fade and at first she was glad, but as time went on she wished it would go away – just so she could sleep at night.) 

~+~

Bodhi’s mother plastered herself as a nebula over the span of his shoulder blades, wide and encompassing like her arms when she held him. 

His father sat heavy on his stomach, a shower of stars that spread like seeds in the wind. They were faded from age, as he had lost him when he was only a baby – his mother told him he cried and cried after they had lost him, but he doesn’t remember, and he finds he’s glad he had been too young to feel the trauma of a lost soulstar. 

He had others, of course, others that he liked to trace in the quiet off-hours in his posting, when the rains of Eadu beat down against his window and kept him up late at night. The sliver of moon on his hip, when he wanted to feel brave, or the necklace of planets low on his collarbone, when he wanted to feel peace; the twisting asteroid belt around his belly and back when he had to pretend everything was alright, and the feeling of pushing past nightmares was the only thing that could help. 

He fingered the cluster of stars and planets on his inner right elbow when he needed to breathe, a faint hum of belief running just under the surface of his skin. But his mother’s nebula would always bring him the most comfort, no matter what. 

~+~

Cassian was one year old the first time the asteroid belt appeared circling his belly and back. It felt like a shaky sigh on his skin, and he poked and prodded at it for days afterwards – having never been awake or aware for new soulstars to appear. 

He had been born with the ones he already had – his mother’s stars and his father’s moon, the supernovas dripping down his sternum and twin moons on his left shoulder, looking like birthmarks. He even had a singular comet, shooting down the length of his spine, but that one made him feel tight and uncomfortable, and he never liked to think about it. 

But the asteroid belt appeared, and he babbled excitedly to his mother and father while slapping his belly. He didn’t remember too much outside of that – he had been so young, after all – but he remembered feeling joy at the feeling. 

When he was five years old, another new soulstar appeared: a brilliant galaxy across his chest, spreading out like his heart had exploded. His mother was dead, though, and his father was fighting battles he did not fully understand, and he had no one to show the new mark to and be lifted up in celebration. 

He did not remember feeling joy. 

~+~

“You have lost your faith, Baze,” Chirrut said, reaching out for his friend. A hand grabbed his, wrapped in leather, and Chirrut smiled and squeezed the assassin’s fingers warmly. Baze sighed across from him, but said nothing. 

“It is fading away. Do you know how I know this?” 

“Because I have told you?” Baze asked, sarcastic and biting; his once warm, hopeful tones faded out by time and oppression and violent occupation. Chirrut shook his head, though, and Baze sighed again. “How?” 

“I feel it in our soulstars. Yours are still there – they are still warm and brilliant against my skin. But they are beginning to feel cold. Emptier. Like I am losing you.” 

Chirrut sat and waited, listening to the silence around them; the Force pulling and tugging and flowing around them like the currents of a sea. Baze finally squeezed his fingers again, and it felt a little like an anchoring. 

“You are not going to lose me.” 

“I know.” 

~+~

Baze knew that the day would be different when he felt not one, not two, but ¬three of his soulstars reacting to something around them. 

He had always felt the sliver of moon on his hip as a faded echo, until it faded far away due to distance many years ago. It was strange to feel it coming back: like homecoming, like warning, like a premonition. It felt wavering and afraid but trying to be brave, and he wondered if they were okay. 

And then there was the burning of the twin suns, becoming hotter and hotter as the day went on; the supernovas twisting and collapsing within them, making him feel anxious and a little empty. They felt like flares of desperation, warning signs and gunfire, and the suns set to screaming the moment Chirrut reached out and grabbed a young girl’s hand, asking her about kyber crystals. 

She was young and frail with the eyes of an old soul and the hands of a convict just learning to trust again. She wore layers in the desert heat, layers to cover her skin and her stars, but Baze knew she was one of his as her hands twitched and she swallowed noisily; as she lingered near Chirrut and leaned towards him like someone desperate for family. 

She only broke away when the supernovas expanded and a young man a few years her senior came and grabbed her arm, dragging her away. 

Baze knew the day was going to be different when Chirrut stood, leaning on his staff, and reached out for his hand while telling him ‘we must follow them’. 

He took the monk’s hand and didn’t ask why. 

~+~

When Cassian reprogrammed him, K-2SO only followed him because he was the only one he knew in this non-Imperial world. 

As they travelled together and grew to know one another, K-2SO developed the opinion that Cassian was the only one with the Rebels worth knowing. 

He wondered if he had a soul, if he would have a soulstar for Cassian. He wondered what it would be. 

~+~

Jyn rubbed at her hands, pressed against her stomach, patted her chest, as she followed after Cassian and felt it difficult to breathe. The stars that dotted her chest swirled and tightened every time she stepped close to the Rebel spy, and she breathed out shakily when he pressed a hand to her back or stepped nearer to her – to ensure she stayed close, because she was a loose cannon and he couldn’t afford to lose her. 

The memory of the constellation of planets below her bellybutton sighing and swooping through her, while she spoke to a blind monk about stars and kyber crystals, scared her; the burning of the twin suns on the back of her hands making her hands shake even as she clung to the necklace her mother had given her just before she died. She wanted to go back; to talk to the two men, ask questions, figure out what they were to her. 

But then everything was in chaos around her, people dying in gunfire, and a little girl was lost amidst it all. 

They were trying to survive a raid, and then they were trying to escape Imperialists, and the only reason they did was because of the blind man and his companion coming to their aid; a staff twirling in a blur and a heavy repeater cannon taking down anyone else in range. 

And then they were surrounded by the Partisans – people she would have once considered friends, allies, if it weren’t for her damn blood heritage (and again she felt her father’s North star, safe behind her left ear; safe and alive and she wished, she _wished_ she had felt him crash and burn with her mother, too, just to sleep – just to live easy and _sleep_ ) – and she felt the gnawing, nervous feeling of a blackhole at the base of her spine widening and expanding as they came closer and closer to Saw Gerrera, the second father who left her. 

(She remembered Hadder and Akshaya – remembered how they took her in when she was dumped time and again. She remembered that they died because of her. They died, they _died_ , and she hated that the ones who didn’t deserve death kept dying anyway.) 

And everything felt too fast. It felt like it was all happening at once – finding her soulstars, finding her second father, learning the truth about her blood father – that she fell to her knees at the end of Galen Erso’s desperate message to a daughter he half-believed to be dead (and how could he, _how could he_ , when her North star should be burning just as alive as his was) and felt her heart lodge into her throat; refused to cry even as her eyes burned and the world around her _shook_. 

(She watched from the window of the U-wing as the world around her crashed in a wave of sand and dirt and life; watched and felt that blackhole she had half-resented for years finally shatter into a million, million pieces, joining her mother – Hadder, Akshaya – and her skin felt like a grave of broken things. She watched as the pilot who made the stars of her inner elbow sigh a lamentation shook and curved into himself and clutched onto his shoulder blades, and wondered if he was feeling the world break apart, too.) 

~+~

Bodhi had always thought that the sun on the back of his knee was supposed to be a form of comfort. 

It was a sun, after all – something that gave life, gave _light_. He rarely saw it on Eadu, and so it was a nice reminder that the sun existed, even if only on his skin, and he palmed it when he felt nervous. 

It was the same with the stars twisting around his ankle, a ball-and-chain that was Galen Erso giving him hope and purpose and some feeling of bravery if only for a little while. Just long enough for him to turn on the Empire and look for a way to bring them down. Even if that was a fool’s dream and a message on a little stick he hid in his sock, pressed against the stars. 

But that bravery did not last, and the sun behind his knee burned him up until he felt amputated the moment he came face-to-face with Saw Gerrera, and his mother had always warned him that the soulstars were not just for the people who would be the best for him. 

They were meant to show who would be the worst for him, too. 

~+~

“I thought we were just here to look?” 

“I’m here! I’m looking! Now go ahead and find a ship!” 

The asteroid belt wavered and quailed, and Cassian felt sick to his stomach as Bodhi looked at him with apprehension and dying faith; but the pilot left, he went ahead, the rain soaking him through despite the protective covering, leaving him alone on the cliff edge. 

Draven’s voice in his ear repeated his orders over and over, and his hands shook and he wiped rain water and sweat from his eyes, sprawling onto his stomach and looking through his scope at the meeting across the cavern. 

The ship of ragtag misfits and unfortunate tagalongs stuck to the back of his mind, as did Kay’s voice questioning him and Jyn’s eyes judging him down into his soul. 

He did not _need_ her judgement, stars burning across his chest and tightening so painfully it almost hurt to breathe. He needed to do his job. He needed to do what was right for the Rebellion – for the galaxy, for _peace_. 

His hands shook, and he stared through his scope, Galen Erso’s head in his sights. 

H needed to do what was _right_. 

(He didn’t fire.) 

~+~

“His is here,” Chirrut said, touching his collarbone, and he felt Baze’s hands carefully push aside armor and robes so that he could look. 

“Planets – a necklace of planets.” Chirrut smiled, closing his eyes, and Baze touched the corner of his eye before pulling away; robes and armor back in place, as neat and put-together as he always was. 

“And hers is here,” Chirrut said, pressing his hand against his stomach. Baze did not need to look, and Chirrut did not ask him to. He remembered when it first appeared, a fluttering of butterflies across his skin, and he had asked Baze to describe what they were. A constellation of planets that spanned from hip bone to hip bone, and Chirrut had laughed and wondered what kind of soul he had been given. 

“And his... his is here,” Chirrut said, covering his shoulder where the twin moons hid, and he remembered when Baze had pointed them out to him first: they had appeared so suddenly and so silently that Chirrut had not even been aware of the addition. 

“That is all of them,” Baze said, and Chirrut nodded, standing up and leaning on his staff. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to follow Jyn! Her path is clear.” 

“Good luck getting there alone!” 

“I’m not alone!” Chirrut laughed, stepping out into the rain, and he followed where the fluttering was strongest. “I have you!” 

~+~

Baze watched the science base go up in flames, the fires hot and heavy on his face even from this far away, and he thought he heard a cry of anguish as Cassian ran to get Jyn and Jyn curved around the body of one of the fallen. 

_My father is a scientist for the Empire,_ she had told him, in the quiet of the ship as they flew to Eadu. _But he’s only tricking them; he’s only working to bring them down. We need to get him back, so he can tell us the weakness in the Death Star. We need to get him. He’s important._

She had tried to make her argument clear, concise: like it was the most obvious conclusion. And Baze nodded and watched the relief filter over her face as open as any book. As open as Chirrut’s faith in the Force and in the Jedi Order and in people, people in _general_. 

But he did not follow Jyn to save her father who was important. 

He followed her because she needed someone to believe in her. 

~+~

When Cassian brought aboard Jyn Erso, K-2SO thought it was a stupid move, and he did not trust her. 

She had not even asked about the little white dots on his chassis, and he thought that that was very rude of her, honestly. 

(Cassian had drawn them on, before mirroring the markings on his own chest; told him that they were important to each other’s lives, and it should be noted that they were. K-2SO told Cassian it was a silly thing to do at the time. 

But he made sure that the markings still looked as fresh as the day they were put on.) 

~+~

Jyn screamed as the North star died, sparking like a short-circuiting console. She screamed as she had never screamed for her mother, or for Saw, or for Hadder or Akshaya or anyone in her _life_. She screamed, and she curled over his body as it cooled, the rain pouring down and the fires around them burning brighter and brighter. 

A sick, nauseating smugness rolled down her spine along with a smattering of moons, all different phases; and she listened to the ion engines of the spacecraft while Director Krennic escaped with his life and a limp. But she didn’t care, she didn’t _care_ , her Papa was dying in her arms and it sparked through her head until all she could see were his face and tears. 

Hands grabbed her, the stars on her chest expanding and tightening until she couldn’t _breathe_ , and she gasped out _no_ as Cassian dragged her away from her father’s body. But they had to go, they had to, and they stumbled into a stolen aircraft and flew away from the last bit of her blood left alive. 

(She wished he would come back so she could sleep, she wanted him back, she was _so sorry_ – please Papa, please come _back_.) 

~+~

“Congratulations, now you’re a real rebel.” 

Bodhi’s hands shook, and he stared out the viewscreen while the others raced to the transport. He saw the bodies strewn, and felt bile in his throat. 

And then Cassian was behind him, clapping him on the shoulder, and the asteroid belt tightened and loosened all at once, giving him a sense of peace even if the horror of what he had done was still in front of him. He shakily got out of the seat, stumbling away as Cassian took over, and Baze grabbed his arm and settled him down on a seat. The sliver of moon on his hip hummed, and he closed his eyes; the necklace of planets warming up like Jedha’s sun as Chirrut sat across from him. 

Jyn stormed by him, the cluster of stars and planets circling his inner elbow singing an angry chorus, and all of them watched as Jyn accused Cassian of his deceit and Cassian lied. 

They all flinched as he turned to them, and Bodhi hunched his shoulders. 

“Anyone else?” 

They said nothing, and Cassian returned to the pilot’s chair, Jyn standing there and breathing shakily; fragmented as the faded soulstars on her skin. 

~+~

Cassian watched Bodhi and Jyn leave with Mon Mothma and Draven, and he knew that it would not go the way either of them hoped at all, and so he turned to his fellow spies, assassins, and secret agents – asking around and finding volunteers for when everything went south. 

He remembered the look in Jyn’s eyes as she accused him of the truth; remembered the heartbreak in her eyes and the way her mouth quivered when he denied her, anyway, and no one spoke up in her defence. 

It left him feeling cold; like the stars on his chest were choking him. And so he looked around, found volunteers, and when Jyn came back out with a slump to her shoulders and defeat in her eyes, he stepped forward. 

“I’m not used to anyone sticking around,” she said, looking at him with questions. And he smiled, stepping closer, and for once the stars did not feel like a restriction. They felt like a hug. 

“Welcome home.” 

~+~

Chirrut stood with the others as Jyn spoke, breathing deeply as she approached him and Baze. He reached out and took her hand, squeezing her fingers when she squeezed his. He could imagine that she smiled, and he closed his eyes and let the ebb and flow of the Force surround him in that moment; the clear thoughts, the clean conscious, the fear tinged anticipation as the stolen Imperial ship rocked and started to rise. 

“We will stand with you, Jyn,” he said, and she breathed out a shaky breath. The planets along his belly warmed and settled for the first time since he’d met her, and he sighed with her. 

~+~

“We’re with you,” Baze said, and he watched as Jyn looked up at him and smiled a frail, thankful smile. The twin suns tingled and spread warmth up his arms, and he reached out and took her free hand. 

“We’re with you,” he said again, and she nodded, and he squeezed her hand, “little sister.” 

~+~

Kaytoo stood still as Jyn stood on the pilot’s seat, the stars a blur outside of their window. Bodhi kept them on course, and Cassian was downstairs going through the weapons’ locker. And Jyn was here, by his side, slowly drawing on his chassis. 

“You’ve been the least expected of all, Kay,” she told him, and he turned to look over his shoulder at her. She had a look of concentration on her face, and he wondered why she took this so seriously. It wasn’t even as though he liked her. 

(But he did. He did like her. What a strange thought.) 

He turned when she stepped back, offering the marker to him, and she smiled. He took the marker, and she turned her back to him and offered the skin of her lower back, and he hesitated before slowly drawing the markings they had agreed on. How strange it was that she trusted him so much in such a short time.

It was a thought he had, as she looked up at him in the middle of enemy territory, holding out a blaster with the same ease that she held out the marker. And he finally answered her. 

“You are not what I expected, Jyn Erso.” 

~+~

Jyn watched the door to the Archives slide closed with a permanent _click_ of the lock, and even though their star was not true, and were only drawn, she felt deep in her heart that she would never see Kaytoo again. 

She looked at Cassian, who shared a drawn star with the droid as well, and saw the heartbreak in his eyes. So she breathed in shakily, holding up her blaster, and looked at the glass before them. 

“Step back.” 

The glass shattered with her shot like her heart did, Kaytoo’s last, warbled words echoing in her ears. 

~+~

Bodhi ran through the heat of blasters and grenades, back towards the ship, a winding, zipping cord dragging the ground behind him. 

He ran as fast and as hard as he could, the fading, mingling pain of his mother’s faded nebula mixing in with the cacophony of sounds and emotions and heat from every other star on his skin. He knew they were all out there, fighting for what was good, for what was right. 

His ankle ached from Galen’s loss, the sun ice cold just like Gerrera’s smothered fire, but still he pushed forward, plugging in, covering his head when he had to, waiting for the switch to turn on and the connection to complete so he could send one last message to someone who could hear him. 

Gods he hoped someone could hear him. 

He felt the planets along his collarbone break as the connection completed, and he gasped but pushed through it all, and said his message as loudly and as clearly as he had never gotten to before. 

When the connection cut, he pressed a hand to his collar, turned, and watched as a grenade dropped into his ship. 

And he smiled. 

~+~

“Chirrut, no! Come back!” 

But he did not listen. 

He closed his eyes and walked through the valley of the shadow, his grip on his staff tight and his tread steady and sure. All sound around him died, and it was only him; only his breathing. Only the Force. 

His body warmed and swelled and felt complete as it had never felt before, and he reached the console. Stretching out his hand (but there was no Baze to take it this time; no Jyn to cling to his fingers and call him big brother) he felt for the master switch; bumping into it, and wrapping his fingers around it. 

He turned it on, and he smiled. 

“Chirrut!” 

He never felt the heat of the blast as it threw him. 

~+~

Baze had been born with deadstars, and he had always been thankful that he could not remember the trauma of losing his mother the minute he was born. 

He felt it to his core, spreading through his eyes, whiting out his vision. And he ran forward, ignoring the calls of the few surviving rebels behind him, towards the ragdoll that was Chirrut on the ground. 

It was quiet, like a ceasefire, and he fell to his knees and gingerly picked up Chirrut. The pale blue eyes stared up at him, and he smiled and reached up and touched the corner of his eye. 

It was agony. 

“Look to the Force,” he said, voice quiet, and Baze felt tears run down his face as they had not since he was young. “Look to the Force. You will find me there.” 

“The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force,” he whispered, and Chirrut closed his eyes. The pain bloomed and receded; bloomed and receded, before finally it was gone, and all that was left was the memory of Chirrut. “The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force.” 

He set the monk down, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips to his forehead. “The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force.” 

He stood, his cannon in his hands, and he stepped towards the ‘troopers in black arrayed before him, aiming and ready. 

“The Force is with me, and I am one with the Force.” 

He lifted his cannon. 

“The Force is with me.” 

~+~

K-2SO had two soulstars, because two people decided that he had a soul. 

He had never asked for it. 

(But he had. He had asked – and he got them. And he lost them.) 

~+~

Jyn’s body felt like it was on fire, and tears ran down her cheeks; her leg wounded, her shoulder in agony, the stars across her body blinking out one by one. 

She limped and she dragged and she reset a satellite; she sent coordinates, she hoped and she prayed and she wished that someone was listening. 

She screamed as Director Krennic shot her, but she watched as he was dropped, and Cassian was behind her – Cassian whom she thought was dead, leaning against a pillar and holding a blaster like it was the only thing he had left. 

He held her back when she went for Krennic, and together they left the Director on the grating to die; holding each other up, their bodies on fire as the base around them burned. 

“Do you think anyone up there is listening?” 

“I do. Yeah, I do.” 

~+~

As they sat on the beach, clinging to each other’s hands, Cassian thought about the stars that freckled down his palms to his elbows; about the moon along the back of his neck. 

He thought about the supernovas that trickled down his sternum and the twin moons on his shoulders; about the asteroid belt along his back and belly, and the three-point constellation that was drawn but still his. 

He thought about the comet, twitching and shuddering and dying, that ran the length of his spine. 

Cassian thought about the stars that spread across his chest, over his heart, as he turned to Jyn and buried his face in her shoulder; thought about how it finally felt like coming home, and how he could finally rest. 

He closed his eyes, and the world whitened out. 

He was home.


End file.
